


Traveled All This Way For Something

by PanBoleyn



Series: Made Our Way By Finding What Was Real [3]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Military!Mike, actual!lawyer!Mike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-17 23:03:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanBoleyn/pseuds/PanBoleyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey's associate interviews are as tedious as both Harvey and Donna had feared, but there's this guy with a badly-hidden limp and bad taste in ties who might just shake things up a little for them.</p><p>Chapter 2: The interview with Harvey wasn't Mike's first, and it almost wasn't his last - or even one he went to at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I confess, this fic is why I wanted to write legit!Mike - I wondered how the interview would go if he wasn't fleeing the cops. And now I know. :)
> 
> Also, first-class year means senior year, and this is Mike's friend Anya, who likes to refer to him as 'Misha' because it amuses her: http://www.imdb.com/media/rm1106814208/nm2919807

At first, Donna’s almost as bored by these interviews as Harvey is. Then, after the fourth cookie-cutter wannabe, Harvey pauses, turning to her. “Donna, we’re gonna need to streamline this. Give each guy a hard time before you send him back. Give me a wink if they say something clever. Cool?”

 

“Okay. What are you looking for?”

 

“Another me.”

 

She really should have seen that one coming. On the bright side, it gets a lot more fun after that. Donna is in her element finding clever ways to mock each new applicant. Though, really,  people like Chip and the one whose name she forgot immediately because he looked like an eleven-year-old in Daddy’s suit? They just make it so _easy_.

 

But would it kill any of them to come up with an answer that’s even a little bit not pathetic? Seriously, they’re supposed to be lawyers from the best law school in the country. Maybe they should start recruiting from Stanford, maybe West Coast baby lawyers are more interesting. At this rate, they’re going to have to extend the interviews beyond today, and then Donna will be stuck with a grouchy Harvey. Joy.

 

Rick Sorkin is a no-show, and it looks like Michael Ross is going to be one too. Then, just as she’s about to call the next name, someone walks up. He’s moving too carefully, left leg stiff, and she realizes he’s trying - mostly unsuccessfully - to disguise a limp. “Michael Ross?”

 

“Mike.”

 

“Well, Mike, you are five minutes late. Is there any reason why I should let you in?” She expects a sheepish or annoyed explanation about the limp, maybe a play for her sympathy. What she gets is a wry smile.

 

“Sorry, elevator was busted, and a cripple trying to run up the stairs? It just doesn’t work that well. Gets messy sometimes too.”

 

Hmm. Not bad. He’s got a sense of humor, at least. Something about the way he stands makes Donna think military background - and is that an Air Force pin on his lapel? - so he might not be exactly another Harvey, but he shows more promise than the wannabes have so far. So when Harvey comes out a moment later, she gives him the first wink of the day.

 

Hopefully it’s the last one too, Donna thinks, studying the waiting applicants shifting in their seats. Because she has a feeling that none of them are going to be any better than the rest of the idiots she’s already sent back.

 

***

 

Donna winks at him, so Harvey’s curious. He can’t see why at first glance - the kid’s suit isn’t bad, but what the hell is with that skinny tie? And there’s something... familiar about him. Harvey can’t place him, though, so he just sits back down as the younger man walks to the chair on the other side of the desk.

 

Glancing down at the resume, Harvey notes that this Michael - Mike, the kid had told him - Ross was in the Air Force before he went to Harvard. Medical discharge, which explains the limp that Ross is trying to hide. “It says here you were in the Air Force, but not what you did.”

 

“Intelligence - translation and codes, mostly.”

 

“Why become a lawyer after you were discharged?”

 

The kid smiles, an ironic twist of lips. “I did Legal Studies at the Academy, was always gonna go to law school. Only question was if I was going to do it as an Air Force officer or a civilian. The choice ended up being made for me.”

 

Ross isn’t boring him yet, Harvey’ll give him that. But he’s not sold on him either. “I’m not looking for a soldier here.”

 

“Good. I’m not a soldier. I’m also not a carbon-copy Harvard douche, and I can guarantee I’m more useful than anyone waiting out there.”

 

Well, this is taking a turn for the amusing, at least. “OK, hotshot. Prove it.”

 

“That’s a BarBri Legal Handbook on the desk there. Read me something. Anything.”

 

Harvey’s curious enough to do it. He opens to a random page and begins reading - only to be cut off by Ross, who recites the rest of the page and the first few lines of the next. Verbatim. “And,” he continues, “looking at the edition number on the spine, you’re on pages 394 and 395.”

 

Harvey glances at the page numbers, then back up at Ross with something like shock coursing through him. Because the kid’s right. “How did you do that?” Knowing the information’s one thing; Harvey knows it himself. That degree of precise memorization, though, that’s something different.

 

“I consume knowledge like no one you’ve ever met,” Ross tells him, matter-of-fact. “When I read something, I understand it. Once I understand it, I never forget it.”

 

Harvey considers the man in front of him for a long moment, then crosses the room, opening the door. “Interviews are over,” he tells Donna with a grin, then turns back to Mike. “Lose the skinny ties, flyboy. That’s an order.”

 

The grin he gets in return is downright evil. “Sorry, Mr. Specter. You said you didn’t want a soldier.”

 

Okay then. This might actually be a little fun.

 

***

 

Anya’s the only one there when Mike gets back to his friends' apartment, where he's been staying while he goes to New York interviews, and she gives him a quizzical look, setting aside the book she’s reading. “Okay, that expression tells me nothing, Misha. You get the job or not?”

 

Mike laughs, sinking down onto the couch and rubbing his knee. “Oh, I got it.”

 

“Then shouldn’t you look pleased, not weirded out?”

 

“Yeah, well, uh... Remember that guy I told you about, the one who picked me up when you, me and Bianca came out here for a week summer before our first-class year? I called him Harvey Dent?”

 

“Yeah, that was... Gorgeous eyes, surprisingly good at both topping and bottoming, definitely one of your top five one-nighters, right?”

 

“That would be him. He, uh, he just hired me as his associate.”

 

Anya stares at him for a long moment, then laughs so hard she ends up tumbling off of the couch. Peering up from the floor and pushing brown hair out of her eyes, she grins wickedly at him. “Oh my _God_. Think he remembers?”

 

“Well, I sure as hell hope not. Can you imagine?”

 

“I can see how it might be awkward if he did. Though, really, it was a decade ago. Who but you _would_ remember, Cam Jansen?”

 

Mike rolls his eyes. “Ha, ha, ha. You do have a point, I’ll give you that.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter in the end. I just need to do my job right.”

 

“And not imagine kinky office sex while doing said job.”

  
 _“Anya!!”_


	2. Packing My Bags, Giving the Academy A Rain Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interview with Harvey wasn't Mike's first, and it almost wasn't his last - or even one he went to at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some minor crossovers here and several more just for fun references - if you spot 'em, let me know. :)
> 
> Also, yes, I did do that with the interview Mike ends up not attending. :D

Directly after graduating, Mike travels a _lot_. He’s got six interviews in five different cities. At Harper and Kane in Chicago, he meets with a guy named Ethan Moyer, one of the senior associates. It’s a bad day, so Mike’s got his cane. He sees the other man’s eyes flick to it, a look Mike knows too well, and he curls his toes in his shoes. It’s less obvious than clenching his fists or his jaw; a trick he learned back in beast when he was getting pissed at the commanders. He hates it when people look at him and his damned cane like that. It’s pity, and the perception that he’s weak. Not everyone puts the Air Force lapel pin, which he’s never without when he wears a suit, together with his injury. Even if they do, a guy with a limp and a cane looks weak to some people. Like some of his classmates at Harvard, for example. It isn’t that Mike isn’t used to it, it’s that being used to it hasn’t made him hate it any less.

 

Ethan Moyer tells him at the end of the interview that he’s “sorry, but we’re looking for someone with more experience.” Mike doesn’t buy it; sure, he’s a new graduate even if he is from Harvard, but his work in the Boston D.A.’s office means he’s not totally green. However, even if he could prove it’s bullshit and Moyer just doesn’t want to hire a gimpy lawyer, it’s not worth fighting over. Better to just move on.

 

Miami’s nice enough - actually, Miami’s gorgeous. A little humid for Mike’s tastes; even after over three years away from the Middle East he still deals better with dry heat now. Colorado Springs and Boston usually not getting too hot probably has something to do with that too (Not that any of this will keep him from New York, from home, if he gets a job there.) But it turns out that Black, Carter, & Belacqua prefers to hire from Yale, since all three founding partners met there. He gets an interview but not the job.

 

With Andrews-Grey in Los Angeles, they’re a Stanford gang, but the guy who interviews him, Dominic Taylor, tells him they’ll let him know once they’ve spoken to all the applicants. Mike’s read a little about this firm; one of their name partners just died (and it was apparently suicide) and one of the senior partners is retiring, so people are moving up the line. It’d be a good time to get his foot in the door there, but he knows the odds aren’t great.

 

His Philadelphia interview never happens. Turns out Kendall, Parry, and Chandler liked one of their earlier applicants better. Mike actually knows this before he gets the formal call, because said applicant is Isabel Tierney. He stops off to see his former housemate, since it was too late to cancel his flight from LAX anyway, and finds her absolutely giddy. But then, she always did want to come back to her home city, and since neither Jules nor Connor ever had a real preference for location, she wins by default. That, and she has both of them wrapped around her finger, but that’s always been the case with their little _menage_.

 

After visiting with Isa, he catches an Amtrak train to New York. Mike hasn’t been home since he, Anya, and Bianca came out this way nine years ago, and the sheer emotion he feels at the sight of the familiar skyline is startling. God, he wants to get a job here, he really really does. He has one last interview after Infeld-Daniels-Kane in Manhattan and the Brooklyn D.A.’s office; Smith & Devane in Boston, where a senior partner named Tanner needs an associate. In some ways it’s both the best and worst offer; personal assignment to a partner means being even more a lackey than those in the regular associates’ pool, but it also means you get to learn directly from someone who knows what they’re doing. You make connections regular associates don’t. All of the other jobs Mike applied and got an interview for were regular associate entry positions. Still, he’d take being home over a technically better job.

 

He’s been staying in hotels up until now, but when he gets off the train at Grand Central, Anya’s waiting for him. “You’re late!” she calls, running over and throwing her arms around him. “What would Major Hailey say?”

 

Mike laughs, shifting his cane awkwardly to hug her back. “She’d tear me a new one, but unfortunately controlling train departure times is a bit out of my skill set.”

 

“You’re crashing on our couch for now,” Anya informs him as they walk out to her car. “But if you get one of the jobs here, we’ve got the apartment over the coffeehouse we’re trying to rent. Bianca says we can give you a deal for it.”

 

“If I get a job, I can pay the rent you told me you planned to ask,” Mike says firmly. “Though you never did say, why don’t you live over her shop yourselves, instead of buying a separate place?”

 

“Bianca didn’t want to live where she works, pretty much,” Anya says with a shrug. “Also, the apartment there’s a little small. Good for one person, but we’re kind of hoping to put down roots and maybe, well, have a family one of these days. I figure her good parenting role models can cancel out my lone bad one, how ‘bout it?”

 

“Anya...”

 

“Nope, no sympathy time, Ross, don’t you have an interview in Brooklyn in... two hours? Plenty of time to drive there and for you to freshen up.”

 

Jim Steele, bureau chief for this particular branch of the Brooklyn D.A.’s office, takes one look at Mike and mutters something about  ‘it’s Potter all over again’ before inviting him to sit down. “Look, kid,” he says. “I love my job, and we can always use more hands around here. But finish with your corporate boys first, then come back if it’s not for you. Trust me, you’ll be better off.”

 

“In Boston I -”

 

“Yeah, I know. Just trust me on this one, kid. You’ve been through one war, you really want to be in another?”

 

Mike... doesn’t know, at all, what to make of that interview. Neither does Anya, when he tells her about it on the drive back to her and Bianca’s place. He didn’t get rejected, exactly; it was more like Steele was a world-weary vet telling Mike to avoid the same life he had. In some ways, it had felt almost like talking to himself right after coming back to the States. “Sounds like the guy’s headed for a burnout or something,” Anya eventually suggests.

 

“Yeah, maybe,” Mike agrees, drumming his fingers on his good knee. “Well, one down, one to go?

 

***

 

The girls’ apartment is pretty much everything Mike would have expected if he’d thought about it; slightly mismatched furniture, bright colors, assorted knickknacks and photos on the walls. Bianca isn’t there when they get in, but she shows up two hours later and Mike is tackle-hugged this time. He’s sitting on the couch so it’s safe enough. “Hey there,” he says with a laugh, hugging her back. “How’s The Java Joint doing?”

 

“About time you joined us, Spielberg, and business is booming,” Bianca says, rolling off him and settling on the couch next to him. “You are staying in New York, right? Anya misses her best guy, you know, and I kind of like seeing you around too.”

 

“I am just fine without him!” Anya calls loftily from the kitchen - for all Bianca’s talent with baking, she can’t really cook otherwise, and Mike’s out of practice, so it falls to Anya to cook normal food for them. Just like their summer breaks in Colorado Springs when Mike and Anya were at the Academy and Bianca was at University of Colorado.

 

“No, you’re not,” Bianca replies tolerantly, and then she smiles innocently at Mike. “Really, Mike, it’d be great if you can get a job here.”

 

Mike sighs. “I’d love to, honestly, but it all depends, you know?”

 

It all depends indeed. Infeld-Daniels-Kane tells him they’ll let him know one way or another within three weeks, and Mike has a feeling that’s another one biting the dust. At this point, he really hopes Travis Tanner likes his potential as a lackey - Mike’s lived in Boston for the past three years, after all, so setting up shop there more permanently is a good second choice if he can’t have New York.

 

He’s considering this as he settles into a cab after leaving Infeld-Daniels-Kane, and absentmindedly going through his e-mail on his phone. A new message pops into his inbox, from the Harvard Law listserv. Mike opens it, scanning the words with a sudden grin. Apparently, Pearson Hardman, one of the top firms in Manhattan, has a new senior partner who’s interviewing for an associate - tomorrow. He does quick mental calculations, and figures he can just manage to pull it off before his train to Boston leaves tomorrow afternoon for his appointment in two days’ time with Tanner.

 

It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?

 

And, since it’s Pearson Hardman, Mike fires off a text to Harold. They haven’t talked much since Harold graduated and got his job - Mike was swamped with third-year assignments and paralegal work at the D.A.’s office in Boston, and Harold was busy trying to keep up with his duties as a first-year associate. Still, they kept in touch as best they could; Mike has a soft spot for the guy who’s a whiz at contracts and any other legal writing but trips all over himself when he needs to do anything else. **Drinks tonight? I’m in town for interviews, it’s on me. You pick the place.**

 

Harold is far from the most observant of Mike’s friends - that’s Jaime or maybe Jules, artist and writer that they are, respectively - but since he works at Pearson Hardman, he’s the only source Mike has. Hopefully he’s picked up something about this Harvey Specter guy.

 

***

 

That night when Mike walks into the Midtown bar Harold suggested, the other man is already there, a drink in front of him. Mike rolls his eyes fondly. “Harold, the point of me offering to buy - is that a Cosmopolitan?”

 

“Um, yes?”

 

“Harold. You never drink Cosmopolitans, unless you’re with a girl. Which you never are.”

 

“But I like the taste!” Harold protests, and Mike shakes his head.

 

“OK, Harold, whatever you say.” He pauses to order a beer, then continues. “I’ll buy you all the Cosmos you want, just tell me what you know about Harvey Specter.”

 

Harold’s eyes go wide. “Harvey Specter? Why?”

 

“Because he’s your firm’s newest senior partner and I’m going to the interviews for his new associate tomorrow.”

 

“Oh, wow, he got promoted? Louis is gonna flip, I wonder if I can call out sick...”

 

“Harold. Focus.”

 

Harold gives Mike a slightly sheepish look. “Right. Well, um, I don’t actually... I mean, he doesn’t really interact with the associates much, he works alone mostly. Louis hates him, though, because he always seems to get everything he wants without even trying. Oh, and he makes fun of Louis all the time.”

 

Mike turns his bottle of beer in his hands. “You said before that this Louis guy oversees all the first- and second-years, even the ones tied to a partner?”

 

“Yeah,” Harold nods. “Nick - he works for John Rieker, he’s always complaining about how there’s days he doesn’t know who he’s supposed to work for. It’s not too bad though; he’s almost done his second year, and he says there’s only a tug-of-war over him occasionally. He just likes to rant about it.”

 

Mike drinks some of his beer, contemplative. “But if it’s someone Louis Litt hates, an associate is an easy target. Sounds like being Specter’s first year could be tricky in an office politics way. I hate office politics.”

 

Harold shrugs. “Maybe? I don’t know. But working for Harvey, I mean... They say he’s the best closer in the city, he’s got an amazing reputation. Though he kind of seems like an asshole. Still, you’d learn a lot. Oh, but you’d have to make sure Donna likes you or Louis would really not be your biggest problem.”

 

Well, this sounds promising. Not the bit about Specter’s rep - Mike recognizes the name from some stories he heard during alum networking things at Harvard. He’s fairly sure he never met the guy - or if he did they weren’t introduced - but he’s good, Mike knows that. Isabel said the same thing, when he called her about it on his way to the bar. This thing about this Donna person, though, Mike wants to know more about this. “OK, so who’s Donna?”

 

“Donna Paulsen, she’s Harvey’s assistant.”

 

“Then why do you look scared just mentioning her?”

 

Harold drains his glass like he needs the courage or something. “Because she knows _everything_. I’m not kidding. She’s like the firm’s spymaster or something, and crazy loyal to Harvey. If she doesn’t like you, you’re screwed.”

 

Mike finishes his own drink, drumming his fingers on the empty bottle. “So, if I’m hired, get Donna to like me. Got it. Anything else I should know?”

 

“Remember that jerk Kyle?”

 

“The mock trial fucker? Yeah, wh- oh, don’t tell me he’s working there.”

 

“Afraid so.”

 

“Christ.” Mike signals the bartender. “Good thing we’re in a bar; that kind of news needs more alcohol.

 

***

 

Mike doesn’t grab anything before his Pearson Hardman interview except coffee, despite Bianca having a few spare cinnamon buns. Thankfully, he didn’t drink enough last night to have a hangover. “Can’t risk getting anything on my suit; getting this shit tailored is expensive.”

 

“Then why bother?” Bianca asks. “Just wear off-the-rack, there’s no real difference, is there? I never noticed when the boys started wearing suits in my business classes back in the day, anyway.”

 

Mike laughs, catching Anya’s eye, and it’s Anya who explains. “It’s the uniform, I’m guessing, right?”

 

“Yep,” he nods. “Uniforms help soldiers play their roles. Corporate lawyers wear suits. Actually, by their standards I should probably be in bespoke suits, not off the rack and adjusted. But I’m not gonna break the bank to do that when that part’s only an unspoken rule.”

 

“Then why the skinny tie? I mean, are those professional?” Bianca says, giving the deep green tie he’s wearing a playful tug. Mike laughs, readjusting it.

 

“Well, that’s my one small rebellion. Proof I’m not a Harvard clone.” Like his Air Force pin, and the Academy ring he wears instead of his Harvard one. It’s not that Mike’s ashamed or dismissive of his Harvard JD. It’s just that it doesn’t mean as much as what came before it. It’s just that he feels more an Air Force officer, medical discharge or no, than one of the “ten thousand men of Harvard”.

 

He finishes his coffee just as his cell phone rings. “That’s Trevor; he’s got some kind of business at the same hotel as the interview, so he’s giving me a ride. See you later.”

 

“Good luck!” Bianca calls.

 

“Break a leg!” is Anya’s contribution.

 

Mike chuckles at both of them and heads for the door, deliberately not taking his cane. It’s a middle of the road day in terms of how much his leg hurts and how well he can move it; to be safe he really should take it. But he can’t quite forget the look the guy in Chicago gave him, so he doesn’t.

 

During the car ride, Trevor is oddly tense. Mike hasn’t asked what his ‘business’ is at the Chilton; truth is that he probably is happier not knowing. So instead, he takes out his phone to look up Harvey Specter. Harold’s stories were interesting but not that useful until and unless he gets the job.

 

The Pearson Hardman mobile website is nice enough, the bios accompanied by photos. Mike finds Specter’s and can’t quite stifle a surprised noise. _Oh shit..._ He looks different, of course, in a three-piece suit with his hair fully slicked back instead of coming loose (and it’s considerably darker, too) but Mike remembers the guy he went home with one night nine years ago. ‘Harvey Dent’, he’d dubbed him, since he deliberately only learned the man’s first name. This... could get awkward. Assuming Harvey Specter remembers him, which hopefully he won’t.

 

“Something wrong?” Trevor asks, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

 

“Not really. Just, uh, the guy I’m interviewing for, turns out we’ve met before. Briefly.”

 

“You sound worried. What’d you do, spill a drink on him?”

 

“Something like that; it was definitely a bit messy.” Technically true. Mike knows Trevor thinks he’s still gone on him, so Mike never mentions anything about men he’s dated or slept with. “It was almost a decade ago, though.”

 

“Well, it’s not like anyone but you would remember now,” Trevor says as they pull into a parking garage two blocks from the Chilton. “Hey, where’s your cane, man?”

 

“Not a bad enough day,” Mike says, and leaves the conversation at that.

 

They split off in the lobby, and Mike finds out that the elevator’s down. The interviews are on the third floor, so three flights of steps. Shit. He should have brought the cane after all. Oh well, too late now; he’ll have to suck it up. Take it slow, though it’ll make him late to do that.

 

Mike knows he’s limping obviously by the time he reaches the interview area, but he does his best to disguise it. (And intends to take Advil as soon as he’s done here.) The redhead at the desk, presumably Donna the office information broker, gives him a disdainful look. “Michael Ross?”

 

“Mike,” he corrects automatically.

 

“Well, _Mike_ , you are five minutes late. Is there any reason why I should let you in?”

 

Mike considers snapping at her, but he remembers Harold saying he needs to be on her good side. Also, there’s something about the way the other applicants keep eyeing her with alarm that makes him think maybe this is a tactic. Or she just likes hassling strangers. Either way, not personal.

 

So he doesn’t snap, instead offering her a wry grin and a quip. “Sorry, elevator was busted, and a cripple trying to run up a stairwell? It just doesn’t work that well. Gets messy sometimes too.”

 

There’s no real way of telling if it gets him anywhere, but a minute later Specter comes out and Mike’s too busy shaking the guy’s hand and pretending like hell that they’ve never met before to think about it. It’s showtime.

 


End file.
